


Trouble For The Inside Man

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Episode Related: Inside Man, M/M, Series: Sentinel in Love series #11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:50:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's in trouble. Jim's in trouble. Nah, nah, nah. <Uh-hem.><br/>This story is a sequel to Judgement Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble For The Inside Man

### Trouble for the Inside Man

by ET

Pairings: J/m 

Disclaimers: Sentinel and Guide are not mine. The entire concept belongs to Pet Fly Productions and Paramount/UPN. No copyright infringement is intended, even though, technically, it is. This is not for profit. <sob>

Warnings: This story contains talk of a same sex relationship. Spoilers for "The Inside Man" episode. Yeah, I know it was awhile ago, but it fits here in the time line I've created. Speaking of which... 

One of the good things about A/Us is that you can pick and chose what episodes, if any, you want to include. I catagorically deny Night Shift and Sentinel 2. They never happened. Not even if Pet Fly Productions and Paramount/UPN come to their senses (sorry) and fix it. 

Summary: Jim's in trouble. Jim's in trouble. Nah, nah, nah. <Uh-hem.>

Notes: This is an A/U series. As such... Morgan is my own character and I have a history for him that I've touched on in this series. Maybe someday I'll actually get to write it. Please don't use him without my permission. You'll regret it. He has a tendency to take over your mind. But what else can you expect from a telepath? 

* * *

The day after his debriefing by the Feds concerning the undercover work on the Lazar case, Detective Jim Ellison went to the house of his lover, Morgan Chandler. As usual, the door was opened before he could knock. The greeting he received was not so usual, however. 

"Why did you do it?" Morgan snapped, golden eyes flashing angrily. 

"What...?" Jim stood on the doorstep, totally confused. 

"You think I wouldn't know? How could I not know?" 

"Morgan..." Jim knew he was in hot water. Now all he needed to know was what he'd done? Morgan was so angry, there was a sudden breeze inside the house. Not a good sign. 

"How could you have sex with her?" Morgan demanded, going back inside but leaving the door open. Jim took it as a tact invitation to enter, which he did, slowly and carefully. He knew he was treading on thin ice, here. 

The man known as Morgan Chandler was the last survivor of a race of beings that counted their lives in thousand year increments and possessed incredibly powerful mental gifts. Morgan was approximately two thousand years old and a telepath. But telepathy was not his gift. Fire starting was. Get him angry enough and something will catch on fire. If not the person he was angry at, then some harmless item. That was why Jim, normally short tempered himself, was being extremely careful not to add to his lover's agitation. 

Jim had known he was bisexual since high school but had ignored it until after his discharge from the army. There had been few men in his life, most of Jim's attention had been concentrated on women. He had even married, although that had ended in divorce. Then, several months ago, Jim had met Morgan Chandler and had become instantly attracted to the tall, slender man with naturally golden skin. Not even being told that Morgan Chandler could read his mind had deterred the detective. Morgan was so laid back about his talent that Jim frequently forgot that a link had formed between himself and Morgan. 

"I can explain." Morgan shot a glare at Jim that made the Sentinel wince. "Well, actually, I guess I can't." Jim ran his hands through his short cropped hair as he tried again. "The Lazar family is one of the worst crime families in Cascade, Morgan. Maybe even in the Northwest. The Feds have been working for seven years on getting the goods on Dominick Lazar without being able to get anybody in for long. I go for a walk after a surveillance and, suddenly I've got a chance to get in close to the family." 

"And the Feds told you to sleep with that woman?" Morgan demanded, disbelief plain in his voice, if not on his face. 

"No, they didn't," Jim admitted, remembering Simon's ire when he guessed what Jim had done. "Michelle had problems, Sunshine. She thought she had been widowed in a hit on the Family. She wanted out before she lost Edward, her son. Lazar told her she could go, but not with Edward. He wanted his grandson to inherit the family business." 

"If it had happened to be the only way to keep safe, I would have understood," Morgan growled at Jim. Although the bigger man, Jim knew Morgan was much more dangerous than the Sentinel could ever be. "But that wasn't the case. Was it?" 

"I'm sorry," Jim whispered, miserably. "I never meant to hurt you." 

Morgan didn't seem to have heard him. "How do you think I felt? I knew the first time you kissed her. I felt it the moment it happened. You promised you wouldn't hurt me. I knew that was an impossible vow, but I did believe you wouldn't do it on purpose," Morgan informed Jim, his voice cracking 

The Sentinel saw tears glisten in Morgan's golden eyes just before Morgan turned his back on Jim. Jim felt his heart break at this sign of the pain he'd caused. He stepped forward and placed his hands on Morgan's shoulders. Only to have them shrugged off as Morgan abruptly surged forward. 

"Don't, Jim," Morgan said, quite firmly, both hands raised. "Just don't. I think you had best go now." 

"Morgan, please," Jim begged, not really surprised by the demand. 

Morgan refused to turn around and face him. "Just go home, Jim." 

"I'll call you later," Jim said, softly. 

Morgan shook his head. "Don't." 

"Are you saying we're through?" Jim asked, incredulously. 

"I-I don't know. Maybe. I need to think." Morgan hugged himself tightly, still refusing to look at Jim. 

"Morgan..." 

"Jim, I am not being deliberately vague. I just don't know," Morgan said, cutting him off. He finally turned to face Jim, golden eyes full of pain. "Don't make this more difficult than it is already." 

Knowing how strong willed Morgan was, Jim could do nothing but leave. 

* * *

Blair Sandburg was sitting at the kitchen table typing up some of his copious notes on his Sentinel when the slamming door startled him. His head shot up, curls flying, eyes wide with fear at the sound. He relaxed when he saw it was only Jim, his friend, roommate, partner and Sentinel to his Guide. 

Army Captain James Ellison had been stranded in the jungles of Peru for 18 months. The sole survivor of a helicopter crash, Ellison continued with the mission of assisting the natives in securing a pass vital to the civil war. After his rescue, Jim left the army to join the Cascade Police Department. He eventually gained the rank of Detective before transferring to the Major Crimes Division. While alone on a stake, the Detective began to experience hyperactive sensory input. He worried that he was losing his mind. At the hospital he'd gone to for tests, he met a young man named who, eventually, explained what all this meant. 

Blair Sandburg, a graduate student in Cultural Anthropology at Ranier University, told Jim that he was experiencing the effects of latent genetic abilities coming to the fore. He explained that Jim was a Sentinel, a tribal watchman chosen because of a genetic advantage that gifted him with all five of his senses heightened beyond those of normal men. Blair knew all this because Sentinels were the subject of his doctoral thesis. Upon hearing that, an uncooperative Jim stormed out of Blair's office, only to zone out while standing in the street. 

When Jim suffered a zone out, concentrating on one sense so much that he lost touch with the world around him, Blair saved his life. The shaken Detective reluctantly agreed to allow Blair to accompany him on the job and help him learn how to control his hyperactive senses. Only Jim's captain, Simon Banks knew about Jim's abilities and that Blair was more than just an Observer but the Sentinel's Guide. 

Blair frowned slightly as Jim silently stalked to the couch and sat, his face expressionless. 

Jim had decided to just tell Blair about his relationship with another man, when a friend of his and Morgan's had fallen victim to a serial killer. Going with the Detective to break the news of her death to her friends and co-workers, Blair accidentally seen the normally stoic detective comforting a man rather more intimately than was called for in the department manual. The man was later introduced to Blair as one Morgan Chandler, Jim's lover. While surprised, Blair had, none the less, been pleased that Jim had found someone and made him happy. But something was obviously wrong today. 

"I thought you were going over to Morgan's?" he asked. 

Turning to face Jim after shutting down his laptop, Blair froze like a rabbit caught in a bobcat's gaze, as he was speared by intense, pale blue eyes. Before he could even think of moving, Jim released him, his eyes looking off into the distance and seeing nothing. Blair nervously licked his lips. Jim seemed to be in a white hot rage. But why? What had happened? 

"What's wrong, Jim?" Blair tentatively asked, as he slowly got up and moved over to sit on the other couch. 

Icy eyes stabbed at him again as, in a cold voice, Jim barked, "Nothing's wrong, Sandburg. Leave it alone." 

"Leave what alone, man?" Blair asked, bewildered. 

"Nothing!" Jim snapped, getting up to wander over to the patio doors. 

He stood at the windows looking out over his city for a bit. Blair waited patiently. He hadn't lived with Jim all these years and not learned a thing or two about the older man's reactions. Still silent, Jim restlessly walked over to the stereo and began flipping through the cd's piled there. He chose one, seemingly at random, placed it into the player and turned it on. Last time Blair had seen Jim like this was just after the Detective had seen his brother for the first time in fifteen years. 

As the soft stains of music drifted into the room, Blair finally identified the feelings he'd been getting. Jim Ellison wasn't angry. He was upset. Upset and hurt. It had to be connected with Morgan. Blair's blue eyes widened again, as he got it. 

"You told Morgan about Michelle, didn't you?" he softly asked, risking an explosion. 

Jim shook his head, a bitter expression on his face. "I didn't have to. He knew when it happened." 

Blair winced at the implication. Like Jim, he had forgotten about the link between his Sentinel and the older telepath. "How bad was it?" 

"Very." Jim took a deep breath and slowly released it. "He's thinking about \-- about...." 

Realizing that Jim couldn't say it, Blair did it for him -- softly. "Ending your relationship?" 

"Yeah," Jim agreed, crossing to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. He unscrewed the cap and took a drink, bring it back to the couch where he sat slightly hunched over. "I really screwed up, Chief. And I don't know why!" 

Blair jumped as Jim slammed the plastic bottle onto the coffee table. Suddenly his eyes narrowed as his busy subconscious took the bottle of water and combined it with some things from the notes he'd been typing up earlier and drew a conclusion. 

"The water," he blurted, eyes on the bottle. 

"What about it, Sandburg?" Jim asked, annoyed. "You afraid I spilled it?" 

"Not this water, Jim. The mineral water you drank at Lazar's house." Jim looked at his guide like he thought the younger man was crazy. "The mineral water you drank there affected your senses." 

"I remember. So?" Jim asked, wondering where the kid was going with this. 

"So you got involved with Michelle Lazar after you drank that water." Blair excitedly leaped off the couch and began pacing about in front of Jim, arms swinging as he lectured to the bigger man. "Jim, you're a Sentinel. Your instinct is to protect the tribe. Traditionally a woman's role is homemaker, wife and mother. Not warrior. Michelle Lazar really needed your help. She was fighting for her son. You were, like, major impressionable with your senses acting up as they were. You sensed her need for help like Morgan would a dangerous thought directed at someone he loved, and reacted." 

"Like with Laura McCarthy?" Jim wondered, frowning as he thought about it. 

"Sort of," Blair said, dropping back down on the couch. "That was pheromone based. This was instinctive behavior. Normally you don't feel much more than a need to protect a woman in such a situation. But with the allergy working on you, your need to protect got a little -- well..." 

"Screwed up?" Jim said, a quirk to his mouth. Smiling Blair nodded. "So what you're saying is, it wasn't my fault I had sex with Michelle Lazar?" 

"Not really. Sort of." 

Jim scowled at the ambiguous rejoinder. "Which one, Chief?" 

"If you had known it might happen, you could have fought it," Blair explained. "And you will, next time. But not knowing your instinct had been intensified, you gave in to it..." 

"...And hurt Morgan," Jim finished for him. Taking a deep breath, he looked hopefully at his Guide. "How can I fix it?" 

"That's going to take some work, Jim," Blair said, with a sigh of his own. "Morgan can be really stubborn when he wants." 

"You're telling me?" Jim snorted, picking up the bottle of water and taking a drink. 

* * *

Simon Banks, Captain of Major Crimes Unit of the Cascade Police Department, had been working on a report for the Chief of Police for two days. He was tired and his body ached from sitting for so long doing unaccustomed work. But it was finally done. Now he had a few minutes of pleasant peace before he had to get back to his real work. That reminded him. 

Ellison had been extremely touchy lately. Most of the other detectives in Major Crimes were tip-toeing around the man. No one knew what was wrong and Sandburg wasn't talking. Sometimes Simon felt like he was a glorified baby sitter. With Ellison as the biggest baby. But Simon was going to put an end to the tension if he had to force Jim to take a few days off to do it. 

"Speaking of a few days off," Simon, thought to himself, "I could use a couple, myself." He tossed his glasses onto the desk, stood and stretched, feeling joints pop and the pleasant ache of tensed muscles relaxing. Then his ears were assaulted by raised voices. 

With a little sigh of frustration he snatch up his glasses. With two quick strides, Simon was at the door to his office. He rapidly found the source of the commotion out in the bullpen. Ellison was trading insults with a uniformed officer Simon had never seen before; something about a messed up crime scene. Sandburg was attempting to mediate the argument with little success. At least as far as the argument was concerned. He was successful in keeping Jim away from the officer. In fact, most of Sandburg's attention was focused on Ellison. Simon had to admit the kid had guts. That was not a position Simon would have wanted to be in and he was more capable of physically handling the military trained Ellison should the need arise than a 28-year-old anthropology grad student. 

Brown eyes widened in shock as the officer made a crack about Sandburg. Before anyone else in the bullpen could do anything, a truly furious Jim shoved Blair back a few steps trying to get at the officer. This had to stop. The kid was going to get hurt trying to keep Jim from killing that foolish man and, if that happened, Jim was going to overdose on guilt. 

"Ellison!" he bellowed, causing nearly everyone in the bullpen to flinch. 

Jim's head shot around as Rafe and his partner, Brown, took advantage of the distraction to hustle the officer out of the bullpen. Hard, angry blue eyes locked on determined eyes the color of deep chocolate. Jim broke first, turning and stalking out of the bullpen. Simon sighed again, as he watched his best detective leave. Sandburg stood watching his partner, obviously mentally debating on whether or not he should follow. At least it was obvious to those who knew him. Which included most of Major Crimes. 

"Sandburg, could I see you a moment, please," Simon called out before Blair could make up his mind. 

Blair looked at him, surprise in his ocean blue eyes. Somewhat nervously, he entered Simon's office. The taller man waved him to a chair as he perched on the corner of his desk. It was a calculated move, learned after numerous years, to put someone who'd been called into his office at ease. 

As gently as he could, considering, Simon asked, "What's going on with Ellison?" 

Blair took a deep breath, obviously nervous. Simon could relate to that. The kid not only was Ellison's best friend; they lived together. Then there was the simple fact that Blair hated to betray any confidences he'd been given by anyone. Unfortunately, Simon needed to know what was wrong with Jim. He waited patiently as Blair made up his mind. Somehow he had no reservations that Blair would tell him. After all, despite being captain, Simon was also both men's friend. 

"This has something to do with the Lazar case, Captain," Blair told him, eyes downcast. 

His posture was telling Simon, "Yes, I'm going to tell you, but you're going to have to practically drag it out of me." 

"Does this have anything to do with Jimmy Vanetti?" Simon asked, his gravelly voice was gentle. This wasn't the first time he'd had to pull secrets out of one half of a team. And with this particular team, he was perhaps a bit better at it than he liked. "I know he had some personal feeling about this case from the very beginning." 

"I almost wish it was about Jimmy Vanetti," Blair confessed with a sigh as he sat back in the chair, almost bonelessly. "I could handle something like that. I did before when he found out about his first partner. I don't quite know how to handle this." 

Something about his tone of voice made Simon frown at him. "Has he gotten rough with you, Blair?" 

Blair looked up, startled. "Oh, no, Simon. It's nothing like that. It's just \-- well..." 

"If it helps, I'm asking as Jim's friend, not his Captain. I haven't seen him so upset in years. Not since before you met him, at least." 

Blair looked up at him and Simon could tell when he reached a decision. "You know, with everything that was happening during that case, we all forgot one very important fact." 

"What fact?" Simon all but growled, at a loss as to what Blair was talking about. 

"Morgan is telepathic." 

"So?" Simon asked, disconcerted. While he was uncomfortable with the idea that Jim Ellison was bi-sexual, he had managed to accept it. Even as he said the question, though, he got the point. "Oh, no. How soon after the case ended did Jim go see Morgan?" 

"It's worse than that, Simon," Blair said, instead of answering. "Morgan and Jim are linked telepathically. Morgan knows just about everything Jim does when he does it. If he wants to, I mean. Most of the time, though, the link is so unobtrusive that Jim forgets it's there." 

Simon looked shocked at that revelation. How could a man as private as Jim live with that kind of intrusion? But Blair did say that Morgan was unobtrusive. Simon wondered what it took for Morgan to become that proficient at reading another's mind. The thought made him uneasy, so he set it aside for later. "How long has this been going on?" 

Blair shrugged. "I'm not sure, exactly. Jim said Morgan told him the link began shortly after they made love for the second time. Every time they came together, it strengthened. Every touch, every kiss..." 

"I get the point, Sandburg," Simon growled, uncomfortably. He couldn't understand how a man like Ellison could be attracted to other men, but, then again, it wasn't his life, was it? "You're saying he knew the minute Jim slept with Michelle Lazar?" 

"Morgan's hurt, Simon," Blair said, slowly. "He's had a lot of lovers hurt him. Jim's apparent infidelity has only made it worse." 

"Wait a minute," Simon protested, sitting up straighter. "APPARENT infidelity? Jim admitted to me that he had slept with Michelle Lazar. Are you saying he didn't?" 

"No, Simon, he did sleep with her. But Jim's having trouble remembering what happened from dinner that first night on until he woke up the next morning." 

"He never said anything about a memory loss," Simon said, thoughtfully. 

"It's not really a loss," Blair quickly said. "His memory of that evening is more like he was watching someone else through a foggy mist." 

"As if he were drugged?" Simon stated, questioningly. 

"Yes, sir," Blair agreed. "And in a way, he was. Some of the minerals in the water he drank acted on his senses like a drug. It loosened his control. Made him do things he wouldn't ordinarily have done." 

"Like sleep with a member of a crime family he was infiltrating. Even if she was a relatively innocent member of that family," Simon said, standing and walking to the chair behind his desk. Leaning on the back of the chair, he asked, "Why doesn't he just tell this to Morgan?" 

"Because Morgan won't talk to him," was the simple answer. "Jim says that Morgan has been hurt very badly in the past, Simon. It took a lot for Jim to talk him into becoming lovers in the first place." 

"And it will take more than an apology to get him to let Jim back in," Simon said, thoughtful once more. He didn't know the blond man very well, but it was easy to see the difference in Jim since they'd become lovers. What Sandburg had started, Morgan seemed to be finishing. "I can see the problem, now." 

"I wish there was something we could do to help get them back together," Blair said, absently. 

"Whatever we do, we had better be careful. Morgan will probably resent our interfering in his life. Especially if it goes bad," Simon said. He looked up and saw the surprised expression on Blair's face. "What?" 

A slow grin grew as Blair looked at the man sitting opposite him. "I can't believe you, man." 

A shade embarrassed, Simon growled, "I can't want to see my best detective happy?" 

"Your best detective is in love with another man, Simon," Blair pointed out. "We know that sometimes makes you uncomfortable." 

"Yeah, well... Don't you have work to do, Sandburg?" Simon groused in mock anger. 

"Yes, sir." Blair slowly rose to his feet and headed, still grinning, for the door. 

It was a clear, bright morning as Simon leisurely drove to work. As he sat at the last stop light before reaching the Cascade Police Department, he looked across the street and saw a florist van double parked before an office building. The huge banquet of flowers that nearly hid the delivery person sparked the glimmer of idea. 

The idea percolated in the back of Simon's brain as he parked in the Police Department's underground parking garage and entered the building. He almost lost track of the idea at the shock of seeing the long haired man sitting at Ellison's desk. 

"Morning, Simon," Blair cheerfully called out when he looked up and saw the tall Captain enter the otherwise empty bullpen. 

"What are you doing here, Sandburg?" Simon wondered, scowling down at the shorter man. "Where's Jim? What happened?" 

"Jim's at the loft. He does have the day off, you know," Blair said with a guileless smile. "I had to get out of there or you would've been called about a homicide at 852 Prospect. I came here, because I figured Jim wouldn't look for me here..." 

"...Thinking you were at the University," Simon finished for him, nodding his understanding of the situation. "Come in my office a minute. I've got an idea." 

Blair obediently followed Simon into his office, waiting patiently as Simon hung up his jacket and settled into his chair before explaining about the florist van he'd seen that morning. 

"It made me remember how Jim was after getting those roses," he said, summing up his thoughts. "I was thinking about sending those two stubborn idiots a dozen roses each. Anonymously, of course." 

Blair thought about it. "Two dozen roses is awfully expensive, Simon. I do live on grants, you know. Wouldn't dinner be better? Someplace like The Old Stone Mill?" 

"How about this, instead," Simon proposed, thoughtfully watching Blair rock slightly on his heels. "You buy them each a single red rose bud in a bud vase. I'll spring for dinner." 

"Sounds good," Blair agreed, enthusiastically. "And on the card we'll put the name of the restaurant, the time..." 

"And the words, Please meet me'," Simon nodded, a satisfied grin on his face. "Sounds like a plan." 

* * *

Morgan sat in his office presumably working on paperwork. In reality, he was trying to get his feelings about what Jim had done in some kind of perspective. The one man he could talk about it with, the one man who knew him better than anyone alive, was currently unavailable. Morgan hated Jeff being out of touch, but the younger man had an opportunity to go on an African safari with his current girlfriend and Morgan hadn't wanted to disappoint him by protesting. 

He knew his people were concerned about him, as a telepath, how could he not know? But his private life was one subject he was unable to talk to them about. So, he hid in his office pretending to be concentrating on invoices and accounting. Sometimes, it even worked enough to get his mind off his troubles. Like today. 

He was immersed in the intricacies of payroll when there came a knock on his half open door. He looked up to see a head poke through the door. 

"We got a delivery that needs your signature, Boss," Cary said, with barely concealed glee. A bit annoyed at the interruption, Morgan suggested he just sign for it, himself. "Can't do that. It requires _your_ signature." 

With that, he stepped aside and ushered a man into Morgan's office. Morgan's jaw about hit the floor as he saw the crystal vase and it's single perfect blood red rose bud. Around the vase was a dark gold ribbon with a cream colored card. The man put the vase on the stunned Morgan's desk and handed him a clipboard, indicating where he should sign. 

As he did so, Morgan asked, "I don't suppose you know who it's from?" 

"Sorry," the man said, with a shrug as he took the clip board back and left. 

Morgan, still in a daze, took the card off the vase and opened it. 

Please meet me tonight Cicero's Restaurant 7 pm 

"So, who sent it?" Cary asked from his position in the doorway. 

"It doesn't say," Morgan muttered, tapping the heavy velum card against his hand. 

"Bet I can guess. I haven't seen Jim around here for awhile," Cary smirked. "Is he on a stakeout?" 

Morgan found himself telling Cary what had happened. Well, not everything. Just that Jim had slept with a woman while undercover on a case. Cary winced as he listened. "I'm sorry, Morgan. It sounds like he's trying to make amends, though." 

"I know," Morgan sighed, tossing the card on top of the papers on his desk. "But I'm not going." 

Surprised, Cary asked, "Why not?" 

"I can't forgive him, Cary. He hurt me. After he'd promised not to." 

"Has he done it before? Cheated, I mean?" 

"No," Morgan admitted. 

"Sounds to me that it's not forgiving him you're having a problem with." 

"What do you mean," Morgan warily asked. He had an idea he knew what the bartender meant, though. 

"It's not about forgiveness, Morgan. It's about trust," Cary said, sagely. "You really need to go. If only because you'll forever regret it if you don't. You can't trust him if you don't try at least once." 

* * *

When Jim walked into the bullpen that morning, he winced at the sudden hush that fell over the normally loud office. Between the quiet and Blair's absence, it was brought home to him that he had really been behaving badly to his friends lately. It was an indication of how much Jim had changed since meeting the hyper active grad student. That thought would never have occurred to the pre Blair Sandburg Jim Ellison. 

Hiding a hangdog feeling behind a stoic mask, Jim quietly made his way through the office only to come to a halt when he got to his impeccable desk. Sitting in the center of the desk top was a single red rose bud. The crystal bud vase had a pale blue ribbon tied around the neck. The ribbon held a cream colored envelope. 

With trembling fingers, Jim opened the envelope. The handwriting was unfamiliar. He read the words twice, not daring to believe at first. 

Please meet me tonight Cicero's Restaurant 7 pm 

Unknown to Jim, Simon stood at his office window as he watched while his friend read the note. He saw a lightening of the fierce, stern look Jim had been wearing for the last few days. Simon was sure there was a faint hint of hope in crystal blue eyes. 

"Gotcha," he thought, a satisfied smile on his face. 

* * *

Jim had only been in Cicero's once before. The Italian restaurant was a little fancy for the down-to-earth detective. When asked, the maître'd told him he was the first to arrive. He followed the man through the sparsely occupied restaurant, automatically adjusting his eyesight to the dim, recessed lighting. He walked passed tables covered with red cloths, laid with crisp white napkins, crystal water goblets and gleaming silverware at each place setting. In the center of every table a fat little, red candle in an etched glass hurricane lamp burned brightly. The base of each lamp was covered by twists of fresh ivy. 

After taking Jim's request for a glass of water while he waited, the maître'd left. Jim's sensitive hearing suddenly picked up the familiar sound of Morgan's voice. A moment later, the maître'd returned with Morgan close at his heels. The love of Jim's life was wearing a forest green, silk suit that looked like it cost a year's salary. Wearing a simple black suit with a white shirt, Jim felt distinctly under dressed. But he was used to that with this man. Morgan seemed to have no consideration for money, claiming that he'd been both poorer and richer than he was at the moment and what was money for, if not to make you happy when you had it? 

After Morgan was seated, their waiter arrived and began to reel off the day's specialties. 

"We have a fine Ossobucco Veal," he said, pretentiously. "Veal cooked with green peppers, onions and mushrooms in a tomato sauce. We also have an excellent Bistecca Griglia Cosa Nostra. That is a grilled New York strip steak..." 

"That sounds fine," Jim suddenly announced, snapping shut his menu even as he interrupted the waiter. "I'll have that. Morgan?" 

"I'll have the Veal," Morgan said, fighting back a smile at Jim's behavior. The waiter looked disgruntled as he nodded sharply and collected the menus. "Also, I think we'll each have a carafe of wine to be served with the meals." 

The waiter's sour look eased as Morgan gave him the names of a truly excellent red and white wine. It helped that the wines were pretty expensive, as well. "Very good, sir." 

"Jim," Morgan said, after the waiter had left. "Do you have idea what you just ordered?" 

"I don't suppose it was a simple steak?" Jim asked a hopeful expression on his face. 

Morgan smiled gently at him. "Afraid not. You ordered a grilled steak with roasted garlic and shallots, served with a red wine sauce." 

"Roasted garlic?" Jim asked, appalled. 

"Roasted garlic," Morgan agreed, his grin widening at Jim's discomfort. "Look if it's too strong, we'll trade dishes, okay? There isn't any garlic in the veal I ordered." 

"Should have known you'd been here before," Jim stated, sheepishly. 

"Once," Morgan admitted. "A few months before I met you. I went out with someone who was trying to impress me." 

"Did it work?" Jim wondered, a little apprehensively. 

"I was alone when we met, remember?" 

"Yeah, I do," Jim said, before changing the subject. 

They kept the conversation light during their meal. The reason they were tip-toeing around each other didn't come up until desert. 

"Explain to me what happened, Jim," Morgan suddenly asked, swirling his spoon in the remains of his tirimasu. 

"You remember what I told you about suddenly getting a way inside the Lazar family?" Morgan said, yes he remembered that. Jim explained about how he had dinner with the Lazar family. How he had a problem with his senses after dinner was over. How Jim somehow began to feel a strong attraction to Michelle Lazar. How the problem with his senses nearly got him killed when several Asian men attacked the Lazar house, shooting up the room Dominick Lazar and his grandson were in. How his strong attraction seemed to override his common sense and he wound up in bed with Michelle Lazar. "Blair thinks it all had something to do with the mineral water I drank at dinner. It acted on me like a drug, releasing my inhibitions." 

"That sounds about right," Morgan mused, golden eyes full of pain. "I had been feeling uncomfortable for a few about an hour or so before I realized what you were doing." 

"I love you, Morgan," Jim said, softly, as he took Morgan's hand in his. "I know I've hurt you. I hurt myself, also. Being without you has been like a bout of insanity. I don't think I can survive anymore, without you." 

"It's been bad for myself, as well," Morgan agreed, his voice pitched so low only Sentinel ears could pick it up. 

"I will do anything to make for the pain I've caused," Jim vowed. He held his breath while Morgan thought about it. 

"Why don't we go back to my place and -- discuss it?" Morgan suggested, with a shy smile. 

"Sounds good to me," Jim agreed, happily, as the waiter reached their table. "Check please." 

"Uh, about the check... " the waiter said, uncertainly. 

* * *

Every time he showed up at Ranier University, Morgan caused a stir. He didn't mean to, there was just something about him that caught these young people's attention. And the attentions of several of the older professors, as well, Morgan thought to himself as he nodded agreeably to one of Blair's anthropology colleagues who was staring at him with a slightly lustful expression. Finally, he was at the half-open door he wanted. As always, Morgan shook his head as he read the hand lettered sign proudly stating that this was the office of one Blair Sandburg. It was taped over the one that read Artifact Storage Room. 

"You know, one of these days I am going to have to get you a real door plate," Morgan announced pushing the door all the way open. 

Looking up at the sound of a voice, Blair's expressive face exploded in a wide, delighted grin. "Hey, man. Good to see you." 

"It has been a long week, hasn't it?" Morgan asked, rhetorically with an ironic smile. It had been all his own fault. He had avoided Blair because the grad student reminded him of Jim. And that reminder hurt. 

"Did you want something?" Blair asked, waving the golden man inside. "It's too early for lunch and too late for breakfast." 

"I wanted to thank you for what you did," Morgan said, quietly. "And perhaps, pay you back for the dinner. I know it had to set you back a pretty penny. Cicero's isn't cheap." 

Blair shook his head, knowing it was futile to deny everything. "You don't have to do that, Morgan. I only paid for the roses. Simon paid for the dinner. In fact, the whole thing was Simon's idea. We both wanted you two to get back together." Blair looked at him carefully before softly asking, "Did you talk?" 

"Oh, yes," Morgan smiled softly. "Among other things. In fact, Jim is going to ask Simon for tomorrow off. He said there was a place he wanted to show me." 

* * *

Jim entered Major Crimes with a smile on his face. It was so early, the bullpen was nearly empty. Even so, Jim saw Simon sitting at his desk. That was good, he had wanted to catch the Captain before he headed out to one of the numerous meetings that were the bane of managers everywhere. 

Tapping on the glass door to Simon's office, Jim asked, "Got a minute, Simon?" 

Looking up from the report he was perusing, Simon laid down the Danish he'd been about to take a bite out of even as he waved the detective in. Warm dark chocolate eyes raked over Jim from head to toe. "You look better than you have for the last week or so, Jim. Have a nice dinner last night?" 

Jim looked at his boss, a suspicion niggling in the back of his mind. "It was fine, sir. I was wondering, Simon. We're a little slow right now..." 

Simon's fact took on a benevolent expression as he held up a hand in the classic "stop" pose. "Jim, I can see where this is going. Go ahead. Take today off." 

Stunned, Jim automatically moved to correct Simon. "Actually, I was going to ask for tomorrow off." 

"Fine. Take tomorrow off as well. Hell, man, you've more than earned a few days off," Simon proclaimed, leaning back in his chair with a self satisfied air. 

Simon's expression clinched it for Jim. "You had something to do with my date last night. Didn't you?" 

Simon gave him an innocent look. His rapid heartbeat gave him away to the Sentinel. "Who me?" 

"Yes, you, Simon." Jim stood there with a smug expression. 

Simon knew he was caught. "Okay, I did have something to do with it. But it was for your own good, Detective. You were about to be the first officer openly killed by his fellow officers while inside the P.D." 

"I know, sir. And I'm sorry." Jim had the good sense to look abashed. "What exactly did you do?" 

"Let's just say that your dinner was on me," was all Simon would say. 

"But I thought..." Jim's voice trailed off as he put two and two together. "You sent the rose?" 

"No, I didn't," Simon freely admitted. 

Jim frowned slightly. His senses told him Simon wasn't telling a lie. He thought about it. Simon paid for the dinner. He had to know where Morgan and Jim were going. Jim didn't tell anyone about the note on the vase. Therefore... 

"Sandburg bought the flowers," he said, surprised. "I can understand why Sandburg did it. But I thought you weren't happy that I was seeing another man?" 

"I just wanted you to be happy, Jim," Simon admitted, slowly. "I have to admit that Morgan seems to make you happy." 

"I can't let you pay for that meal, Simon," Jim protested. "It was expensive." 

Simon waved him quiet. "Consider it my apology, Jim. To both of you. I know I've been a little hesitant at accepting your commitment to each other and I'm sorry." 

"Thank you," Jim said, simply. "I'll see you later, Simon." 

"What, dare I ask, are you going to do with your two days off," Simon asked, as Jim turned to go. 

"I know this little place just outside of the city," Jim said, his craggy face softening somewhat, much to Simon's amusement. "It's a large, beautiful inn. Each bedroom has a huge fireplace and there's a lot of land for walks or some really great fishing..." 

"Ah, where is this place, Jim?" Simon interrupted him to ask. 

"Like I'm going to tell you?" Jim shot him an amused look. 

"I could revoke your two days off, Detective," Simon threatened. 

"Carolyn and I went there when we were trying to save our marriage," Jim said, knowing his Captain didn't mean his threat. "Unfortunately, it didn't work. She moved out two days after we got back." 

"It was for the best I suppose," Simon said, in commensuration. 

"Yeah, I guess so. Well, thanks again, Simon," Jim said, heading once again for the door 

"Don't forget to thank Sandburg, as well," Simon quickly reminded him. 

"I won't," Jim told him. "I've got a feeling Morgan's going to want to, as well." 

Simon laughed as Jim left his office, then leaned back in his chair. Morgan was going to want to thank him, also. He wondered if he could get a free dinner for two at the Knight Rampant? Wouldn't hurt to ask. Humming to himself, Simon picked up a report and started to read. 

~Finis~ 


End file.
